Wish You Were Here
by Eleture
Summary: Prompt: Blaine doesn't expect anyone to show up for him at any of the end of the year senior activities (Senior Awards Assembly, Senior Family Breakfast, etc) and no one does. He's overwhelmed when someone(s) makes it a point to celebrate him on graduation day. TW: neglect, blangst.


Prompt: Blaine doesn't expect anyone to show up for him at any of the end of the year senior activities (Senior Awards Assembly, Senior Family Breakfast, etc) and no one does. He's overwhelmed when someone(s) makes it a point to celebrate him on graduation day.

A/N: I don't like it, but I haven't posted in a good long while and I promised I would today. So here it is. I hope the anon likes it! I'm sorry it's so short!

**Wish You Were Here**

He purposely arrives late because he knows how these sorts of things go. Tina's parents are loitering in the entrance hall with her when he walks in and he smiles brightly at them.

"Oh, you're here!" Tina grins brightly, "I was getting worried, they're about to start the assembly, everyone else has gone in."

Blaine smiles, "Sorry, traffic wasn't great."

Mr Cohen-Chang frowns at his words but no one says a word about the fact that it's mid-morning and there's not a car on the road. There's a tense moment and then Tina's mother smiles brightly at him and bids them go inside.

Blaine sits between Artie and Tina just as Sue Sylvester takes the podium to make her introduction. He ignores her introducing Figgins and explaining the purpose of the Senior Awards Assembly, which is apparently "to hand out acknowledgements that will not help even remotely in the pursuit of a career, self-esteem or a better sense of hygiene."

Instead, he checks his phone. He knows his father is somewhere in Europe, but his mother had mentioned she might make the trip from her hastily organised spa holiday in Columbus to see him. She hasn't said anything since she promised to try and get away.

He knows better than to hope.

When they announce his name he scans the crowd, but a sea of strangers clap politely for him. There's no camera flash for him, no mother taking a photo of her son to share with her friends. There's no one waiting for him when the ceremony closes and he walks out of the emptying gymnasium with Tina. He lingers for a moment, unsure what to do. Groups of friends disperse to greet their parents, to get photos and to be congratulated.

He looks at his phone he brought and wonders if it would be weird to ask someone to get a photo of him, that way he can send it to her.

Maybe she'll remember she was meant to be here. Maybe she'll be proud.

He fiddles with his phone as he waits for someone's attention to free up enough for him to intercept, watching the Evans family from the corner of his eye.

Sam's mother hugs her son tightly, directing his younger brother to take another photo.

Blaine locks the screen of his phone and slips away.

It's easier for everyone if he's not there.

-.-.-.-

When he gets home he spreads the awards on his bedspread and takes a photo. He sends three messages, one to each of his parents, and one to Cooper.

No one replies.

-.-.-.-

The day of the senior dance, his last dance, he has to fix his own hair and straighten his own tie. He holds his own hand as he tries to work up the courage to go and collect Tina.

He sets up the auto-timer on his little camera and balances it on the mantelpiece so he has at least one photo with a brave smile.

It looks like a grimace, so he deletes it and leaves the house.

He tells himself to have courage, because there's no one there to do it for him.

-.-.-.-

It gets more agonising with the Senior Family Breakfast. It's a seated affair, with more speeches and more photos and people gushing about their kids to each other.

It's also _compulsory _for students to attend.

He sends the invitations to his family. The week before the breakfast he collects the mail and rifles through it. His fingers pause on a familiar battered envelope. His own handwriting on the front.

Across the address, to his father's office in New York is a familiar red scrawl.

_Return to Sender. _

He bites the inside of his cheek to keep his lip from trembling. It's not the first letter, and it probably won't be the last.

It hurts him though, there's driving stabbing pain in his heart, because he flips it over and sees the seal is unbroken.

There are no illusions here. No one bothered to even open the letter. Blaine's father just sent it back.

He wonders if the older man wishes he could do that with Blaine too.

-.-.-.-

He RSVPs for one in the end, and tries to be a small as possible between the groups of people congregating.

He's not sure where to turn because if he talks to anyone they might ask. He feels so conspicuous, so he fiddles with things and laps the room casually so he doesn't look so alone. His friends bustle between talking to him and being with their families.

He can't begrudge them the one thing he wishes he had, so he plasters on a smile even though it kills him. Beneath the surface he flounders, and daydreams. He pretends his brother is here with him, or his parents.

Briefly, ever so briefly, he allows himself to entertain the notion of what might have been if Kurt had been here. Perhaps Burt and Carole might have come too.

The good thing about being alone is that no one questions him when he ducks away to the hallway and just sits there.

He pretends someone will come looking for him.

It's not until he returns to the breakfast, sandwiched between Tina's family and Artie's that he feels especially keenly the dull ache of jealously.

The two families include him, and he smiles and plays his part, but he's a stranger, a guest. He doesn't understand the jokes or have the stories.

Everyone pretends not to listen in when Mrs Evans leans across to him and lightly asks, "Blaine honey, don't you want to save a spot for your mother?"

Blaine tries to hide the wince and grasps around for an excuse. In the end, he just shrugs and smiles and says as brightly as he can, "She couldn't make it."

If anyone notices the way his voice breaks a little they don't mention it, but the table shoots him a near simultaneous look of sympathy.

Blaine keeps smiling until his face hurts, and then at least that distracts him from everything else that does too.

-.-.-.-

He doesn't bother sending invites to his Graduation. His mother comes back from Columbus and he mentions it quietly.

His mother looks him in the eye and smiles, "Of course honey, you only graduate once."

He helps her pick out a dress to wear to the ceremony and pretends he doesn't notice when she puts it away again.

-.-.-.-

Graduation is a relief in a way, because the crowd mingles. It's not as awkward as a sit down breakfast where it's hideously clear no one thinks he's good enough to bother attending.

Instead, he gets his gown early and re-gels his hair in the boys' bathrooms.

"Courage." He tells himself and then he does his best to prepare to face the word alone.

He's used to it yes, but that won't quash the little voice in his head that tells him if he just tried harder, if he just did better, maybe – just maybe – he would be good enough for someone to be there for him.

He hates himself for thinking it.

-.-.-.-

He waits patiently in line for the speeches to be finished, and then his name is called, he takes his High School diploma, crosses the stage and stages with the others. He tries not to scan the crowd with hope; instead he focuses on reading the certificate, looking politely at Tina, and then Sam as they get their turn and shuffles along the line behind Artie.

He's so focused on the floor it takes him a moment to hear his name being called. He looks up to see Sam, whose hand comes to rest on his shoulder comfortably. "So, that was kind of a non-event right?"

"Yeah," Blaine smiles, "I'm glad it's over, I'm so ready to go home and watch re-runs of Gilmore Girls." He does have the box set now; Kurt is still refusing to accept it.

Sam frowns at him and Blaine bites his lip, realising that most people are going out to dinner with families or something. Sam follows his train of thought immediately, "I thought you'd be doing a family dinner?"

"Uh-," God, it's just so awkward to have someone ask about this. Blaine just hasn't got one of those families. He flounders for an excuse, what is he meant to say? "They are-,"

"It's just -," Sam continues on, and Blaine braces himself, "I saw them outside."

Blaine's eyes narrow, firstly because he's one hundred percent sure that Sam wouldn't recognise the Andersons if he saw them and secondly, because he's completely certain the Andersons have happily _forgotten _to attend.

"Maybe you should go see them," Artie pipes up from the other side of the hallway, and somehow the two of them steer Blaine outside.

All he can think is that it's some awful joke or prank, and even though he knows they would never do that, he knows his parents better.

He stumbles into the sunlight only to be swept up in a hug, someone awkwardly pats his back between the woman's arms and he hesitates for a moment before realising it's not his mother.

He sighs lightly and she pulls away.

Carole Hudson smiles down at him, and then Burt Hummel is awkwardly shaking his hand and…oh my _God _Finn is standing there with a camera taking photos like Sam's little brother had done at the Awards ceremony.

"I don't-?" He whispers as Carole smooths an invisible line on his gown and steers him to stand in front of the school for another photo, which Finn takes despite the fact he's not smiling.

"Oh honey, it's your graduation!" Carole smiles down at him, "Gosh, we're all so proud of you."

Part of his heart feels impossibly tight. "You-?" No one has ever said that to him before.

"Here kid," Burt moves forwards, eyes sparkling in the late afternoon sun, "Happy Graduation." He presents a wrapped box to the boy and suddenly it's too much.

With trembling hands he pushes it back at Burt, "I can't – you shouldn't have-,"

"Listen to me Blaine," Burt interrupts his stuttering and Blaine almost feels like cowering from the man. He doesn't know how to deal with this, so he freezes and stares at him. "It's tradition in this family to buy something nice for our sons when they graduate."

Blaine isn't proud of the slightly choked gasp that escapes his mouth next, and the sudden swell of tears in his eyes.

"Kurt picked it out." Finn supplies. "He went looking for you, but-,"

"Kurt's here?" Blaine squeaks.

"Yeah dude, it's your graduation." Finn points out, staring at Blaine like he's waiting for the realisation to take root in his mind.

Kurt's here. The Hudmels are here. Someone came.

_Someone…_

He looks down at the little box in his hands and then the tears start to actually roll down his face. He's not entire sure he's breathing properly. No one says a thing as Carole draws him into a hug.

"There you are I have been – _Blaine_?"

The worst thing is Blaine knows that voice, knows the voice of his sort-of ex-boyfriend. He tries to wipe away his tears as discreetly as possible but it's a failed effort.

"Why are you crying?"

The question bubbles up another round of emotion and all Blaine can do is let Kurt draw him close and hold him as he breaks apart.

"You-," His voice chokes off and he has to start again, "You came to my graduation?"

"Of course we did." Burt replies, because Kurt is too busy pressing comforting kisses to Blaine's forehead.

"You came." He repeats quietly.

His family came.

He's never known what it's like to be loved unconditionally by his family, but as Kurt whispered in his ear _'I love you Blaine' _he imagines this is what it must feel like.

No matter how much time passes, when Blaine walks into Kurt's arm it's like coming home.

If only he had have known in that moment that Kurt felt exactly the same way.

—- Fin —-


End file.
